


Fellas is it gay to patch your personal assistant/AI caretaker's wound? Asking for a friend

by Silverhearted



Category: Inkwyrm (Podcast)
Genre: Cross my heart, F/F, First Aid, Like she Did get grazed by a bullet but She's Fine!!!!, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, fellas it's just them being soft I dont know what to tell ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhearted/pseuds/Silverhearted
Summary: Mella Sonder is really, quite confident that Annie could've gotten someone else to bandage her up.
Relationships: Annie Inkwyrm & Mella Sonder, Annie Inkwyrm/Mella Sonder
Kudos: 6





	Fellas is it gay to patch your personal assistant/AI caretaker's wound? Asking for a friend

Annie set flush against Mella, the two perched on a table in the workshop, the editor focused definitively on a gash in Mella's shoulder. She'd only really been grazed, but Annie had insisted on checking it over despite.  
It was endearing, Mella was pretty sure.

"It's becoming increasingly evident that you have a Talent for getting shot."  
Her voice cut through the gentle silence of the area, exasperated. She was worried. Mella could tell- her brow notched in the way it did when she was worried, even if she tried to furrow her brows like she was agitated. That's why Mella knew she wanted a reassuring sort of response- even if she wouldn't just ask normally.  
She still was new to this, but she was trying, which Mella appreciated. Not everyone tried. 

So when she replied, she did so with a half-tired, half-embarassed sort of laugh.  
"You know me. Regular bullet- hhs," She cut herself off with a hiss and a wince, flinching away from the sting of the alcohol-soaked wipe. Ow. "Bullet magnet. Ammunition loves me."

Annie's eyes only narrowed further into a squint, holding her assistant's arm gently, but firmly. She stared at the offending shoulder-wound as if it was to blame, somehow, for every trouble she'd ever faced.

It was cute, Mella thought vaguely.  
Mella decided to stop thinking, face warm with a blueish tint. She looked away. Focusing. She was most certainly not going to dwell on her crush on the editor right Now. No way in hell. Not with her so.. close.  
Wait. Annie had been talking.  
"-tiseptic. Honestly, aren't you the one who regularly gets zapped by her own work? For her entire job? Awfully dramatic."

Mella flinched again at the feeling, all too aware of the injury, and Annie's hands over it. They were excessively soft. Something in the back of her brain boggled at the combination of the two feelings.  
"Rude. I'm injured, be nice to me."  
She still was looking pointedly away, blush fading. That's why, when Annie pursed her lips and set to focus, running the cloth over the deepest part of the cut, Mella was caught entirely off-guard.

She bristled, whirling with her ears flattened to crow about Warning Someone, Come On, only to stop with the words on her tongue.  
Annie's face couldn't be an entire inch away from her own.

Mella decided, then and there, that Annie Inkwyrm was certain to be the death of her.

She flushed turquoise, blinking once, twice, as if to make a blurry image clearer. Annie did not seem to be faring much better. She made a soft noise of surprise, her own face going red. Mella could've sworn Annie's eyes darted to her lips, but they were back to her own eyes before she could be sure.

They froze like that, for a moment. The air hung with a heavy sort of tension, humming with expectation. Each, in some portion, hoped the other would move closer.

It didn't take more than a moment for Annie to fluster enough to back off, though.  
"Ah! Well, your- you seem. Fine. Your shoulder's good. No reason to. Miss any Work, I suppose. I'm sure you can reapply a guaze-patch, I'm- needed elsewhere. You know. Duty calls."

She was gone faster than Mella could respond. Which was.. fair. Mella wasn't really sure she'd have been able to muster a response, anyway.  
She covered her face with a hand, still a bright team shade. Hm. 

"That was gay."

"Shut up, Morris."

If Mella had a few extra pens following her around that afternoon, well, maybe she was just distracted.


End file.
